GCPD Headquarters – Morning Broadcast
The press room was packed with flashing cameras and tense murmurs. Commissioner James Gordon stepped up to the podium, his face stern, aged by sleepless nights and mounting pressure. Behind him, a GCPD insignia and a large screen frozen on a headline:
"DARKWING NOW A THREAT TO GOTHAM?"
Gordon adjusted the mic, cleared his throat.
"Last night, the vigilante known as Darkwing killed Dr. Jonathan Crane, also known as the Scarecrow, during a confrontation in the heart of the city. Though Crane was a criminal and a known terrorist, he was unarmed at the time of his death."
The room went quiet.
"We are not blind to the chaos Gotham faces. But we are a city of law. Justice must be served through due process. Taking a life—even of someone like Crane—crosses a line."
He looked directly into the cameras.
"Effective immediately, Darkwing is no longer considered a vigilante asset. He is to be treated as an armed and dangerous individual. If seen, report to the GCPD. Do not engage. I repeat—do not engage."
The crowd burst into questions. "Is he a criminal now?" "What about Batman?" "Is this the beginning of a war on vigilantes?"
Gordon didn't answer. He simply turned and walked away.
—
The Rooftops of Gotham
Darkwing crouched on a gargoyle, rain soaking into his new black suit. Below him, a newscast echoed from an apartment window.
"The GCPD officially declared Darkwing a dangerous rogue—marking the first time since the events of the Red Hood that a vigilante has been openly classified as a threat to the city."
Rex Mallory didn't flinch. He already knew.
He stared out across the city skyline, the neon lights warping through raindrops on his visor. Gotham looked sick. Corrupt. Poisoned. No matter how many villains they locked away, more appeared. As long as the monsters remained alive, there was no peace.
He thought about Barbara. About Bruce. About the promise he made to himself.
"I'm not stopping," he muttered. "Not until Joker is dead."
He flipped down onto the fire escape, entered through a window of an abandoned apartment, and opened a map. Joker's old hideouts, Crane's old labs, Penguin's clubs—they were all marked. Threads of red string stretched across the city like veins.
"Where are you hiding, clown?" Rex whispered, eyes blazing.
His hand hovered over the trigger of a device tracking stolen chemical shipments.
He was hunting.
But he didn't know—
He was also being hunted.
—
Joker's Hideout – Somewhere in Gotham
A warehouse, decrepit and dusty, had been transformed into a stage. Puppets hung from the rafters. Mirrors lined the walls. And in the center, a dinner table, set for a party no one wanted to attend.
Joker danced from corner to corner, humming an off-key lullaby.
"He's coming… oh, I know he's coming. Rage in his belly. Vengeance on his lips." He snatched a marionette and twirled with it.
"Darkwing. Ooooh, such a brooding name," he giggled. "I like it. Edgy. Violent. So much pain under all that leather."
He looked at a mirror and dropped the puppet. His face darkened.
"Nightwing wouldn't have done it. But you? You're not him, are you?"
He walked to a chalkboard, where WELCOME HOME, DARKWING! was scrawled in giant letters. Explosives rigged the corners. Gas tanks sat beneath trapdoors. Monitors showed entrances wired with motion sensors.
"He's broken now," Joker said to no one. "And broken toys are so fun to play with."
He snapped his fingers and turned to a shadow in the back.
"Tell the boys to set the stage. Our guest is almost here."
—
An Abandoned Courthouse – Elsewhere
A gavel echoed through the empty, moldy halls.
Whack. Whack. Whack.
"Order in the court!" came a voice—then another, lower and twisted.
A single man sat at the judge's bench, half his face horribly burned, the other clean and sharp.
Harvey Dent… and Two-Face.
"I sentence him to death," snarled the burned side.
"No, no," said the unscarred half. "We need him. We need to keep the coin pure. Justice must be fair."
The coin flipped in his hand.
Clink.
Tails.
"Kill him."
"No! It's not time yet. Joker said wait, Joker said trust the plan."
The coin spun again.
Heads.
Harvey stared at it, smiling like a boy on Christmas morning. His laughter—then his rage—echoed through the darkened room.
Two personalities battled for dominance, but one thing they both agreed on:
Darkwing would return. And when he did, they'd be ready.